Pity The Living
by Muffliato
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Harry had never been guilty of name-hogging. But all was not well. At least, not yet. — Pre-Epilogue with angsty!angst, a miscarriage, and H/G whomping.


**A/N:** I've always loved the Epilogue. I'll be the first to argue about its plotholes, but the thought that Harry becomes a wonderful dad always has me in tears. The only true issue I had with this ending was the dratted name-hogging, something which was horrendously out of character for everyone involved. Aside from epic crack theories, I've never heard a reasonable explanation for this. But I recently got into the broadway show "Next To Normal", and a plot bunny came hopping along with the song 'How Could I Ever Forget'.

As I destroy everything I love, I wrote the following.

**General Disclaimer:** If this had been the Epilogue there would've been rioting in the streets. Thank Merlin I'm not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"No spell can reawaken the dead, Harry. I trust you know that". Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_.

* * *

Harry wished there was (at least) the dull thumping of a muggle heart monitor. Instead, the room was silent. Silent and welcoming his grim thoughts to spiral off into contemplations that the very air was choking along with him. Which was melodramatic, he knew. He also knew there were magical spells and potions invisibly returning Ginny to health, but that didn't stop him from continuously checking her pulse. Because although he was all too aware of what had occurred, this didn't stop him from glancing at her stomach, sporadically flinching as reality swept back in.

But the utter stillness was by far the worst; signalling that there was nothing he could do, no one to be saved, that he was out of time and…

With a pause Harry's thoughts scattered as his heart was suddenly in his throat. Did she skip a breath? A scramble for her fingers, racing to find a vein to press and—

—1—2—3—1—too slow, but steady. He'd been imagining it. Good. That was good. Brilliant really, but he couldn't relax when Ginny's hand was so pale and cold. Her freckles were bitterly sharp and, as his eyes rose to her face, he drew in an unsteady breath. Unclenching their fingers he brushed the tears from her sleeping form, shaking as he did so. His skin barely touched hers.

There was a small creak of the door opening and a murmured whisper of his name. Maybe something about a doctor and how there was no news to tell. Harry might have said something back but whatever it was too soft to hear, a dream, or inconsequential.

"Harry?" A few footsteps later and tanner hands were cupping his chin. Hermione's creased tone overflowed with concern. He shifted away, never comfortable with this, gaze settling back on his wife. The brunette, drawing her arms back to her sides, sunk onto the other bedside chair. "You've got to get some sleep. They're…they're both stable, but you know we'd wake you if anything changes."

"I'm not tired." Harry mumbled, the syllables swaying together. He sensed his friend open her mouth to argue, before sighing and deciding against it.

"At least eat." She said in a hushed voice, as though keeping quiet to not disturb Ginny. "Breakfast, or a bit of water—"

"I don't feel like it." Harry idly noted that, at any other time, his irritation would be raising at lightning speeds. But after waking up to blood, hearing Ginny's shriek, and realising there were no intruders, no spells, and spending however many restless hours at St. Mungo's, he couldn't bring himself to care. Though he had lied: he was exhausted. Though not the kind of weighing tiredness that sleep could heal.

A pause.

"Treacle tart." Hermione tried again, attempting to make the pudding sound appetising. "Or just something to drink?"

"Leave me alone." His gaze didn't leave the brittly breathing redhead. The knot in his chest never unclenched, nor did the cascading wave of numb grief. Worry and guilt were there as well, but all were muffled as though cotton had tied him up inside. "I'm not tired, I'm not hungry, and I'll be fine as soon as Ginny is."

A longer break along with an exhaled sigh.

"Harry," her fingers crept around his own, the latter still shaking, "you shouldn't be alone. If not Ron or I, then Teddy? He wants to see his godparents."

Harry felt his feeling of choking increase at her last word. It took a moment for him to gasp out the answer. "Later. Okay? I'll, I can't—"

"You don't want him to see you like this." Hermione finished softly. Still keeping one hand clasped with Harry's, her other moved to wipe away some of the wetness around his eyes, unknowingly echoing his earlier gesture with Ginny. "Teddy knows what happened, he understands. He—_we_ all want to help. If we can do anything…"

He ducked his head, making a quiet noise of neither disagreement or reluctant acceptance with any of the statements.

Hermione's fingers stilled. "If you want to—I can't imagine how hard this must be, but the healer just brought him out. It's why I came in. You, you can see him whenever you want."

Harry jerked around, hands flinging away as he stared at Hermione is disbelieved horror. Imagined images chased through his mind: of a mutilated foetus with accusing emerald green orbs, of a perfect little baby with a tuft of red hair and eyes that would never open…

"_Breathe!_ Please, calm down." Hermione's voice pitched in worry, staring pleadingly at him as she gripped his heaving shoulders. She talked rapidly, trying to alleviate his panic with reassuring words. "_I meant James!_ James Sirius: your son. He's so lovely and, oh! He already has everyone wrapped around his finger. You should have seen Minerva's face when she heard his name, but everyone loves him to bits and…" her tone softened, slowing as his breathing evened back out, "…he's beautiful. A bit small but so, so strong. Just like his parents. Even looks like a blend of you two; Ginny's hair, but he'll have your smile…"

Harry straightened uncertainly, coughing to force on a calm facade. Tugging his glasses off he rubbed at his eyes. Maybe he would prefer the previous stinging numbness to this billowing of unwanted emotions. "I, I can't come out. Not now. Not yet and…hell. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, take all the time you need." She stared perceptively at her brother-in-law as her own tears fell and he replaced his glasses with a grimace. "But everything will get better. It will! I—we'll make sure of it. Any help you need with—with preparations, with James—"

"Jamie." Harry quietly spoke without realising it. He looked back at Ginny's unconscious form with a stricken expression. It was as though the frog had hopped out of his throat and the stoppered sentences were now desperately racing to the forefront. "Before this we'd, we'd thought about nicknames. One of those stupid conversations, you know? Gin was on this thing about, about initials, or middle names or some rubbish. But, well, Jamie and Artie felt right. Perfect."

Hermione gave a small gasp as though clutching back a sob. But she otherwise remained silent as her best friend softly continued as though this was a confession.

"I didn't like the names Ginny wanted at first. Not that it wasn't amazing of her; I'm grateful, it does mean a lot that she wanted to honour them." His arms shrugged helplessly, the words now pouring out. "But they were so morbid! Jamie's alone was verging on depressing, but combine it with Artie's original one and…Merlin." He shook his head, streams of liquid dripping down his cheeks. "She wanted 'Remus Albus' for him. Took ages to convince her around to one bloody namesake that wasn't on my side or _de—_" he choked and couldn't continue.

Hermione remained silent, hands raising up and down from her lap as though she yearned to hug him but didn't know if it'd help or hurt.

"That wasn't _gone_." Harry at last forced out, determinedly keeping his gaze on Ginny. "'Arthur Arnold Potter'. Silly, yeah, but I think she finally agreed because of the middle name. The alliteration was a bit much, though having the twins be named after our dads? It, it all made sense."

"It did." She whispered. "It was—"

"What does he look like?" Harry cut her off, his question escaping before he could clamp his lips shut to hold it back.

"I, what? I mentioned it before. No, sorry, I mean…" Hermione resembled a Dementor caught in a Patronus' glare, "…Jamie has the Weasley hair but your expression…"

"I meant Artie." Harry's words thudded out as though they had been rubbed against sandpaper. Numb but desperate and shattered at the edges. "The healer must have at least told you. Does he look like Gin? Me? The giant bloody squid?"

She gaped in worry and a little bit of fear. "You don't want to hear this—"

"Hermione." He at last shifted his pleading gaze to her. "_Please._"

She exhaled, eyes wrenching closed as more tears spilled. "Arth—_Artie_ had your eyes."

The choking returned with a vengeance.

"But Ginny's freckles." Hermione continued with a stricken voice. Harry struggled to keep from gasping for breath. "He looked…he looked so lovely. So peaceful. Oh god, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said this, you're in no state of mind to—"

"Stop. Please…just stop." Harry breathed heavily, cutting her rambling words off. Pushing against the chair he stood abruptly, startling his companion at the sudden gesture. "But tell me: why did this happen?"

"This, there was nothing that could be done. I'm so sor—"

"_How the hell could this happen?_" His numbness swelled into burning rage as though a switch had been flicked. "What's the _bloody point_ of magic if, if…_DAMN IT!_"

Shoving the seat back it banged to the floor, ricocheting off the tiles like a cannon's shot. Harry paced mutinously, racing his hands through his hair as it stood on end, appearing mere moments away from flinging hexes at the wall. Hermione silently watched him mutter while sitting stock-still as though petrified.

"You've always been the brilliant one, so why?" Harry barked out, anger caught within the remains of a choke. "Magic's supposed to be so wonderful, so blasted _perfect_. So why…" his voice was shattered by a sob. Throwing off her momentary stupefaction, Hermione leapt up to embrace him as his knees gave out, "…why can't it bring back the dead_…why couldn't it save my son?_"

Harry collapsed against Hermione, sobs muffled against robes. She whispered something reassuring, something loving, but it mostly went unheard. She knew this though continued on; perhaps to block out thoughts of her brother breaking against her. "It's horrible, and I don't know why. But Ginny's fine, Jamie's fine…you're a father! It's not all lost. And all of your family is here. We'll, we'll figure it out. I don't know how but—"

"The stone!" Harry broke away with a sudden gasp, eyes wild.

"The what?" Hermione replied blankly as she leaned against the bed, flabbergasted at his change and unexplainable enthusiasm.

"_The Resurrection Stone_." He repeated with a hysteric note, snatching his coat from beneath the upturned chair. "The ring! It'll still be in the forest. I'll apparate to the gates and—"

"What? No! The stone?" Hermione snatched at his arms, stopping his frantic move to the door. "You know what that thing does! Just think of the legend: you dwell on dreams and forget to live!"

"It's a blasted legend, you said it yourself. Who knows what's right?" Harry tried to jerk out of her grip without harming the brunette. "That won't stop me from seeing my son!"

"_Your son_," Hermione emphasised, holding on tighter as her panic escalated, "is just outside those doors! Along with your family, your godson, I—HARRY! Stop struggling!"

"THEN LET ME GO!" He roared while managing to pull away. Neither noticed a faint shuffle on the bed at their shouts. "I'll be right back."

"NO YOU WON'T BE!" Hermione cried out shrilly, momentarily forgetting about the third person seemingly asleep in the room. Yet her tone almost immediately deflated. "_You'll forget._ About Jamie, about Teddy, about Ginny…about all of us."

Harry took an impatient exhale, glancing back and forth between the door and his sister. "I've done it before. It was fine."

"_Fine?_" A spasm of disbelief. "You call walking to your death 'fine'!?"

"I'll be back soon." Harry ignored the comment, swinging on his coat and walking towards the exit.

"_YOU CAN'T SAVE EVERYONE!_" Hermione shouted. Hand already on the doorknob, he paused at the cry. "Yes, you must know that better than anyone, but you're a stupid, noble git who needs the reminder! Go if you have to but don't forget who's here. Don't forget what you've gained! Yes, _gained!_" Her voice broke. "_You're a dad._ You and Ginny are going to be there for Jamie's first words, first steps, first broom-ride…all of his birthdays. And there'll be more heartbreak because that's life, but don't you dare forget how wonderful this still is! Ginny's fine, one of my godsons is alive and—" everything shattered with these words. Hermione, crying into her sleeve, stiffened before relaxing as arms wrapped around her. She returned the embrace without further pause.

The two figures clung to each other, sorrow palpable with tears racing down their faces. The door never opened and the room once more fell into silence. But unlike the previous cruel stillness, something that wasn't quite hope but was perhaps close to acceptance clung to the air. This feeling was a relief beyond anything Harry had ever known.

"I haven't forgotten." He finally admitted, head straightening from her shoulder, tight hug slackening. "I haven't. I'm, I'm so thankful for Ginny and Jamie. Just—" he released her, stepping towards the bed as though uncertain of where he was going, "—what am I supposed to do? How do I, I…damn it!" He sat down on the bed with a shattered curse. "_How do I do this?_"

Hermione opened her mouth before closing it, not knowing how to drive the frantic gleam from his eyes.

"_With me._" The soft whisper was enough to freeze time. Harry and Hermione, startled, swirled around as one. "You'll do it with me."

"Ginny?" Harry said as though not believing it. He brushed fiery red hair away from his beloved blinking eyes; warm but filled with sorrow.

"We'll figure this out together." Ginny coughed, a slight wrench of pain spiralling across her face. "We'll get through this. Where's, where's Jamie? Teddy?"

Hermione, the smallest of smiles shining through her tears, stepped away from the couple. "I'll go get them, and let the family know you're awake. I'm so, so happy you're okay."

Ginny gave a grimace at the words but still nodded gratefully. Harry leaned towards her, taking her hand gently.

Thus, as the door closed, Hermione's last image of the couple was a peaceful one. Where their bodies were drawn close and painful, dawning hope rang in their murmured 'I love you's.

* * *

**A/N:** The premise of this story is that James Sirius was originally a twin. But the birth was premature and little Arthur Arnold was miscarried.

If you want to find me I'll be sobbing in a corner and thinking about what I've done. As well as why I should nevereverever name kids or characters.


End file.
